Isle of Man -


Did pangs of grief for lenient time too keen,
Grief that devouring waves had caused — or guilt
Which they had witnessed, sway the man who built
This Homestead, placed where nothing could be seen,
Naught heard, of ocean troubled or serene?
A tired Ship-soldier on paternal land,
That o'er the channel holds august command,
The dwelling raised, — a veteran Marine.
He, in disgust, turned from the neighbouring sea
To shun the memory of a listless life
That hung between two callings. May no strife
More hurtful here beset him, doomed though free,
Self-doomed, to worse inaction, till his eye
Shrink from the daily sight of earth and sky!
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